Doctor Who: Triumph of Hate
by huzzahitsthedoctor
Summary: Follows the decision of the High Council of the Time Lords to resurrect Lord Rassilon during the Last Great Time War.


_Doctor Who: Triumph of Hate_

_By John Tice_

This war has been raging for such a long time already and some of us on the High Council are beginning to lose hope. First, the sacking of Lady President Romana, then the foolish idea that the Master would ultimately help. Now most of the battles have come to nervous standstills, at least for the time being: we have been such fools.

I walk down the passage to the chamber of the High Council for our daily meeting, though Lord President Vetustain had a sense of urgency in the contact he made from the Inner Council. The doors open, and I take my place next to Lady Artunian, Lord Flos, and Layde Prudentes, who are members of my delegation from the Infraxus chapter. I glance over to the Prydonians, and receive a brusque nod from Councilor Braxiatel, which I return. Suddenly the meeting is called to order by the Lady Chancellor, and silence falls.

"My fellow Time Lords," begins the Lord President, "Gallifrey is in its darkest hour. We have had our victories, but also our upsets. We have gained reports that the Corsair has disappeared, the Master's whereabouts remain unknown, and the battle of the Spiral Cluster has been lost."

Audible gasps were heard around the rotunda.

A light from Patrex's box lit up, announcing a question. The Lord President nodded to proceed.

"Has there been any headway with the Doctor?"

"He remains inconvincible and we have been unable to track his whereabouts for some time now. There is an office of the Celestial Intervention Agency working on intercepting him, but our full efforts cannot be placed into finding one renegade Time Lord. We saw how that worked with the Master."

His colour visibly rose at this last sentence.

"There have been successes. A Dalek fleet was destroyed by a squadron of battle TARDISes , and a crucial Time Station on the outskirts of the Andromeda galaxy has withstood a recent assault. The production of battle TARDISes by the new factories constructed has also been coming along smoothly. However, things are still looking grim. The Inner Council, with guidance from the Visionary, has come to a proposal. We need an even greater power. Someone whose name brings fear to his enemies; known for his brilliance and cruelty. There has been much deliberation, and we have come to a unanimous, though terrible decision: we must resurrect Lord Rassilon!"

A great uproar erupted across the hall, with agitated councilors beginning to rely of broad gestures to get their points across.

Suddenly, the Castellan rose to his feet.

"SILENCE! The Lord President has not finished speaking!"

"Thank you Lord Castellan. I am willing to take a few comments, but I would like to come to a vote immediately following."

The new head of the Arcalian chapter, a Time Lady I was unfamiliar with, rose to her feet and signaled immediately.

"Yes, Cardinal?"

"What do you think this will accomplish, Lord President?" She shouted heatedly.

"We have come to stagnation in our plans!"

Murmurs of assent resounded across the room

"The conclusion has been made that we need strength and a new set of ideas, and who better than the founder of our glorious society? Who better to save us all? We need power! We need might!"

Cheers, with underlying boos, erupted from various sides of the room.

"But Lord President—"

"Enough! We shall begin the vote now. No more debate, except amongst your chapters."

The unfamiliar head of Acal began to raise her voice again, but the Castellan quickly cut her transmitter. Suddenly, two armed members of the Chancellary Guard appeared, and dragged her off, to sharp protests. The council chamber noise fell to hushed whispers.

"No more debate!" The Lord President banged his fist on the podium.

Layde Prudentes turned to me, "This is a desperate decision. Resurrecting Rassilon? This is even more foolish than trusting the Master, maybe as foolish as that business with the Doctor in his fourth regeneration that got us into this mess."

"I'm prone to agree," I said, "What say you, Ruxian?"

"I'll stand with you, my Lord"

"Lady Wexus?"

"This could be our only hope. Rassilon built our society, and I think it would be worth it to see if he can save it, as well.

"But what if all the rumours are true about him? All we've heard about the Divergence, the Vampires . . ."

"We don't know much about him, that is true, other than what we learn in the Academy. That's all shrouded in mythology, though. Either way, I consent to the decision the rest agree to. I too am troubled by no debate."

"Thank you. And you, Artunian?

"I agree that this going too far, too quickly; especially without debate. I say we vote no. Perhaps we can reconsider. I'll gladly introduce a vote of no-confidence against the Lord President after this vote."

"Good. I'll alert our vote."

I click the switch that lights a red globe at the front of our box. I notice others beginning to switch on theirs, and note with despair that the majority are green.

"All is lost," I mutter, and my hearts feel heavy within my chest.

I heard Layde Prudentes sigh dejectedly behind me. Lord Flos let out a choked sob.

"What have we done? I pray to Rassilon . . . I mean, I hope we haven't made a giant mistake. "

"Pretty soon you might just be able to do that," I state grimly, "A billion years of Time Lord society, and now this."

The Lord President rises, smiling. "The motion passes! All heads of delegations with me, immediately. Castellan, alert the Science Council to meet at my chambers. Surgeon General, come along as well, please."

"I will see you all after this is all done," I say to the chapter, and head towards the chambers.

I enter the Lord President's chambers after a few other chapter heads, and the Lord President begins to speak.

"I have brought you all here to be a part of the resurrection, where we will immediately hold an Extended Council meeting with Lord Rassilon to apprise him of the situation. Former Lord President Borusa found a trans-mat within the chambers, and that is how we will enter the Dark Tower."

I watch with bated breath, until it is finally my time. I feel the familiar, but jarring, sensation of the trans-mat, and find myself before a chequered floor. The Lord President states that the pattern relies on the number Pi, and we all follow after his footsteps, slowly.

Lord Vetustain marches forward to the tomb with the Science Council and the Surgeon General. I look on in awe at the tomb of the founder of our great society, a body eternally preserved into perpetuity, then remember the rumours about his legacy, and my mind sours.

Suddenly, the face of an old, bearded man appears in hologram over the tomb. A face wise, but severe. I knew immediately that this was Rassilon.

"Who dares disturb me!?" says the deep voice, "Do you seek immortality?"

"No, Lord Rassilon," says the Lord President, with a nervous pride, "We come to seek your strength. We wish to resurrect you. There . . . there is a war, and we need you."

The hologram chuckled, but had a brief flicker of lust in its eyes, "Resurrect me? How do you propose that?"

The Lord Scientist perked up at this, "M . . . my, ahem, my Lord, since your time, we have, on quite a few occasions, successfully given brand new regenerative cycles to Time Lords."

A few microspans passed, and Rassilon's face shows the passing of thought, as though he were working through what the scientist had said in his mind, making sure it was sound. Suddenly, it seemed a sense of realisation took hold in his face.

"Really?" spat the projection, "Do what you will, I command you!"

The scientists quickly assembled a device, and then looked at the Lord President. However, the holographic face of Rassilon answered.

"Activate the device! Activate it now!"

Hastily, the team steps back while the lead scientist presses a button on a console. Suddenly, a bright ball of light momentarily appears, then arcs over to the supine body, inserting into the mouth, leaving a momentary glow over the body as a whole.

Suddenly, the figure stirs, then weakly sits up, slowly gathering strength.

"I am Rassilon reborn!" he says, and suddenly he gives off a sense of great strength from his frail body. "Too long have I been asleep."

A golden sheen starts rippling across his body, quickly taking form as small dancing flames flowing upward whilst it seemed as if sheets of sheer liquid gold was running down.

As soon as that image had imprinted onto my mind, Rassilon's head suddenly tilted back and his arms shot out to the side, and I became immediately blinded by the brilliance. A small shockwave pushes all of us observers back, and I shield my eyes while the light dims. As I put my hand down, I notice the most chaotic regenerative cycle I have ever seen, reminding me of a patch of silver trees that caught fire near my father's estate when I was a child. The sparks receded, and in their place was a much younger man, in clothes far too big for his size.

Momentarily, he looked confused, then a fire began to burn bright within his eyes.

"Well . . . we have a war to win!"


End file.
